Tears at Midnight
by Jennifer Wand
Summary: Her first night in New York, Tsukushi has a lonely moment.


Tears at Midnight  
  
A HYD elseworlds/moment/semi-fic  
by Jennifer A. Wand  
  
--  
  
Tsukushi could feel a hand on her face. Warm, gentle pressure. Her eyes slitted open, and the haze in her mind, so gray, tinted itself slowly rose-color.   
Consciousness slid into place, and the doors to her mind unlocked the mysteries of her eyes one by one. Dark pools to drown in were eyes, two crescent shards of moonlight were a smile... the forest of eternity was a mop of curly hair...  
"Doumyouji?" she whispered, still sleepy and confused. Something whispered to her that he couldn't possibly be here, and yet he was... she could see him, see the slight smile on his face and the love in his eyes...   
His hand trailed off her face and caressed the line of her jaw. She made a small, involuntary sound in the back of her throat. "How did you..." she began to ask.  
"Shh, don't talk," he whispered as he leaned in to her. His moist lips brushed hers, and her eyes slitted closed again. Yet somehow she could see him still, see him as his arms wrapped around her, as she felt herself lifted by that strong body, saw her own arms rise of their own accord to embrace him, tasted the sweet honey taste of his mouth salted with her own tears of joy...  
and then she reached out for him again... and clutched air.  
Tsukushi's eyes opened again, and she saw her hand in front of her, straining toward the ceiling above... heard cars scream by in the streets... heard laughter and noise from somewhere close by...  
She sat up in the small bed and buried her face in her hands.  
The door was open, and several figures pranced by, chattering unintelligibly, singing scraps of songs and casting strange gray shadows on the half-lit floor. One stopped, then drowned all the other shadows as his eclipsed them all.  
"Tsukushi?" Thomas said, and then did a double take. "Tsukushi, what's wrong!" he cried, running into the small room and grabbing hold of both her wrists. In vain he tried to pry them from her face, but her arms were locked, holding clutched fists of desperation. He couldn't overpower her pain.  
From behind white knuckles she whispered, seethingly. "Don't sell the necklace. Don't." Still, she wouldn't show her face.  
Thomas panicked. "Of course. I won't sell it. Tsukushi, I won't sell it, so please tell me what's wrong!"  
"Doumyouji..." The words came to her lips of their own accord. Thomas heard, gasped, started to speak, and then thought better of it. Even he knew to keep quiet after seeing the distress on her face. For a long while he sat, grasping her wrists, trying to peer into her troubled mind as now, with tears of frustration built up from volumes and volumes of suffering, and in a foreign country where she had nothing and no one, Tsukushi finally, finally cried.  
They weren't tears of desperation, nor of weakness, but they were tears that desperately needed to be let out, and Tsukushi felt limp and exhausted when they were through. She hunched forward, breathing raggedly. When she looked up again, her eyes were bright with tears, but her mouth had curved into a smile. She looked unflinchingly into Thomas's eyes, a gaze that both comforted him and gave him courage.  
"So you and Doumyouji-san really are..." he ventured to ask, and she nodded. "And he gave you that necklace, then?"  
"Yes," she said in a low, sweet voice, her hand flying to her neck as though it were still hanging there in its tiny crystalline beauty, a jewel that sparkled at her throat as though it were the key to her soul.   
"Then what happened? Why are you here?" Thomas asked in wonder, his huge blue eyes wide. But Tsukushi's gaze had shifted, and now she seemed to be looking past him, at some faraway spinning sphere. Perhaps Saturn.  
"You know... he said, 'Makino, let's kiss,'" she whispered.  
Thomas felt the weight of the non-sequiter plunk down on him like a gigantic sweatdrop. "Hunh?"  
Tsukushi returned somewhat to reality, and studied Thomas's face with slight amusement. "The other night, when he left, he asked if he could kiss me. I thought he was just being an animal. But he already knew at that point."  
She stopped Thomas's question before he could begin to say it. "That he wouldn't see me again," she explained.  
"Why?" was the only question Thomas could think of asking, but Tsukushi wasn't speaking to him. She was giving voice to sentiments she hadn't had time or space to think about, that she'd been moving too fast to acknowledge. So when her answers came, they were to her own questions only.  
"He knew all that time we were being followed, and that they were going to take him away. Even when he said 'See you tomorrow.' So he asked for a kiss."  
Tsukushi drew her knees up to her chest and hugged them tightly. "I should have kissed him," she sighed. "If I'd had even half a clue, if I'd had my eyes open, I would have kissed him right there. On the street. Not caring who could see.  
"But I didn't. Can you forgive me for that, Doumyouji?"  
"Tsukushi..." Thomas breathed. Outside, a star slid across the sky, tracing the path of a tear. 


End file.
